


Shoulder Pads and Prying Spies

by StarTravel



Series: DS9 One Shots [1]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Breaking and Entering, Fluff, Implied Getting Together, Julian’s Disaster Fashion Sense, Not Respecting Privacy, crack but not nearly as cracky as I thought it would be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 07:12:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16635311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarTravel/pseuds/StarTravel
Summary: Garak finds out that Julian’s wardrobe is even worse than he could’ve ever imagined, and realizes that he’ll have to go to dire lengths to help his friend. Julian, meanwhile, comes to his own revelations.





	Shoulder Pads and Prying Spies

**Author's Note:**

> So the obviously ridiculous fact that they made Siddig wear padding under his uniform sucks and has body shaming implications, but I couldn’t shake the idea of Julian thinking shoulder pads and chest pads are fashionable and Garak being horrified by that.
> 
> Unbeta’d because I wrote this while stuck on a bus for four hours lmao.

Garak has long considered the Federation uniforms unfortunate, without any sense of style and unflattering at best. It suited no one worse, however, than Julian, whose lovely face was the only thing unpunished by the bulky layers and odd stretch of the grey and teal. But seeing Julian now in his pajamas, still high-necked and covering nearly every inch of his skin, Garak thinks it might not be entirely the Federation’s fault. Oh, the uniforms are still terrible, shapeless in the waist and legs. But, clad in his pajamas and more specifically alone, any sense of bulkiness is gone. Julian raises an eyebrow from where he’s sitting up in bed, back pressed up against his headboard. “What are you staring at?”

 “Your body.” Garak admits without any pretence, knowing full well that Julian won’t read his words the way he intends them. Julian rolls his eyes slightly as he slides from the bed, shifting those shoulders - broad for his frame, but still delightfully slender - as he stands in front of Garak.

  Garak gives him another once over, letting some of the appreciation show in his gaze. The dear doctor isn’t entirely wrong in the meaning of his words, and the best kinds of deception are dotted with truth.

 “Really, Garak, usually your flirting is at least a _bit_ more subtle than that.” Julian answers him with a low exhale, taking a few steps toward him with a hint of a pout. He makes an irritated clucking sound with the edge of his tongue, but there’s mirth sparkling in his gaze when he comes to stand by Garak’s side. He stretches his arms out a bit as he catches Garak’s eye, grin wide and playful as he leans in a tad. “Do you like what you see?”

 “And for you, my dear doctor, that was practically refined.” Garak tells him in a crisp voice, though his words only make Julian’s smile widen as he shakes his head ruefully. Garak’s not sure he’s ever met anyone who likes to lose quite as much as Julian. Garak gives him an indulgent smile in return, gazing at his chest with a spark of interest. He’d like to see what Julian looks like beneath that silky blue shirt, the slim lines of his chest and the carefully carved muscle of his shoulders, toned but not so boorishly obvious as Klingons or some other terrans Garak has seen. “But yes, I think I prefer this look quite a bit to your uniform.”

 “You have always said they’re garish.” Julian answers with a bit of a nervous laugh, gaze flicking across the room as he takes the tiniest of steps back. Garak raises his eye ridges as he watches Julian make a stuttering noise in the back of his throat, hands batting at the air uselessly. He reminds Garak suddenly so much of the doctor he met here over a year ago, a strange mix of boldness and nerves far more obvious than any Cardassian would let theirs be. He found it charming and useful then; it frightens Garak a little that he only finds it charming now.

 “And as it turns out, you do everything you can to add to that.” Garak murmurs with a hint of disappointment. He lets his gaze fall over the neat lines and angles of Julian’s body one last time, savoring the oppositeness it holds to Cardassians. Julian’s built more like an individual scale, sharp and beautiful, delicacy hiding a core of strength that would shock anyone. And to think Julian tries to rid himself of that useful element of surprise.

 Julian swallows tightly, an almost wounded look coming into his gaze as he glances over at Garak with a raise of an eyebrow. He straightens his shoulders as though to make them seem wider, twisting around as though to hide the hurt in his gaze from Garak. Garak swallows a low scoff, because Julian can’t be offended by that. It’s hardly the first time he’s told him how much better he’d look without his uniform. In fact, it’s likely closer to the fifth or sixth at least. Eventually Julian shoots him a slightly irritated look over his shoulder, though the softness in his voice belies it. “Wait in the other room, I need to change. I can hardly go talk to Captain Sisko like this.”

 Garak smiles placidly before walking into the living room, letting out an exasperated sigh when the door shuts behind him. He decides it’s too soon to let Julian know his suspicions. After all, where would be the fun in that?

****

 “Garak, what are you doing?” Julian asks in clear irritation, eyebrows pressed together as he tilts his head to the right slightly. Garak simply runs his measuring tricorder down Julian’s side with a beatific smile, idly wondering how long he could keep Julian here before the other man left in a huff. He’s guessing hours, if he comes up with enticing enough lies and hints of promises he has no intention of keeping. “You’ve measured my shoulders at _least_ three times already. They hardly could have changed much in the past few minutes.”

 “No, it just feels as though they’ve changed since two days ago.” Garak murmurs as he brushes the tricorder up Julian’s side and then down across his shoulders, letting his hands brush against the edge of Julian’s neck with a feather-light touch. Julian swallows tightly, Adam’s apple bobbing slightly as he raises an eyebrow. “You remember, when you were in your pajamas. The lines of your shoulders and chest there just seemed _neater_.”

 “It was probably just the fit of the pajamas versus the fit of the uniform.” Julian snaps back at him, voice rising a bit and taking on an almost wounded quality as Garak runs his tricorder over the top of his white linen shirt. This time he deftly moves his fingers across the collar, undoing the first few buttons pointedly.

 “Yes, I imagine that your pajamas doesn’t have this spongy layer underneath ruining the lines of all your clothes.” Garak agrees with a wide smile as he pokes at the black t-shirt, moving his hand down a little to run over the padded shoulders with a low exhale. Julian stiffens under his touch but doesn’t pull away, cheeks flushing instead as he squirms under Garak’s touch. Fascinating.

 “Garak.” Julian mutters in a low voice, glowering but making no move as Garak undoes another few buttons. He starts sliding the white sleeves down Julian’s arms, hands gliding down until the shirtsleeves wrap around wrists almost like cuffs. Julian Garak lets his right thumb brush against those long arms for a moment, relishing in the feel of soft skin beneath his own rougher hands. Julian swallows and meets his gaze in the mirror, pupils a bit larger than before.

 “Really, my dear, I know you can be a bit vain, but this is too much, even for you.” Garak finally answers with a sigh, taking a step back to give Julian another look over. Julian stands still but he makes a soft noise of affront, gaze pinched and mouth curling into a familiar pout.

 “The Romulans all wear shoulder pads to enhance their style.” Julian objects in a slightly strained voice, an uptick to his voice as he gets to the word ‘style’. Garak’s hand, that was snaking towards Julian’s waist freezes in mid-air. Oh. Oh, this is far worse than Garak imagined. he thought Julian merely wanted to make himself look more muscular - it was common enough on Cardassia and in the Federation - but for Julian to think this was actually _fashionable._  Well, that was unacceptable. Garak has his limits, even for his dear doctor.

 “Yes, on the outside.” Garak corrects him with a slight tilt of the head, pressing a few buttons on the tricorder as he runs it across Julian’s shoulders and chest. If there was a certain flirtation in their motions before, it’s gone now, Garak focused on getting the measurements of the black, padded shirt. Julian doesn’t move anything but his flickering gaze, which seems torn between affront and humiliation. Garak’s grin turns shark like as he decides for Julian. “And you, my dear, are not Romulan.”

 “Goodbye, Garak, I’ll see you when I get back from our mission.” Julian says shortly as he finally steps away from Garak’s touch, shifting his shoulders as he starts haphazardly rolling his shirt back over his sleeves. Garak reaches to help with the buttons and Julian shoots him a seething look, eyebrows pinched together. If he was Cardassian, Garak would take it as an invitation. But since Julian is regretfully only human, he merely gives him an enigmatic smile and watches his friend walk out of the dressing room.

*****

 Garak waits several hours after Julian leaves on his mission with Dax and O’Brien to break into his rooms, measuring tools in hand. It’s not the first time he’s broken into Julian’s room, but it is the first time he’s done it without the other man being there. He frowns at the alien silence of his friend’s bedroom, a part of him waiting it to be filled with enthusiastic stories about science or petty jabs delivered with a too genuine smile.

 Then Garak shakes the feeling off and moves toward the doctor’s closet, gaze pausing on a strangely shaped Terran toy that sat on top of it, as though playing guard. Garak swallows a scoff that’s more affectionate than he’d like and throws the closet doors open.

 “I knew this wouldn’t be easy, but this is truly more dire than I thought.” Garak sighs as he takes in the rows and rows of garishly colored clothing, the vivid oranges and greens, none of which would do anything for the doctor’s complexion. The blue and purple were better on that front, but the puffed sleeves were unfortunate. And then there were the black, padded shirts Garak could see hanging under each and every outfit, apparently what Julian considered the height of fashion.“You’ll thank me for this later, my dear.”

 Garak gets to work then, carefully removing each garishly sized padded t-shirt from Julian’s clothes and tossing them to the floor. If some of Julian’s louder clothes end up there too, well Garak hardly thinks anyone could blame him.

 Garak pulls out his tools, carefully running them over each and every uniform and shirt. Someday, when he decided to speak to Garak again, the doctor would thank him.

* * *

 Julian feels disgusting when he gets back from his mission, covered in what feels like layers of grime and smoke. All he wants to do is go to his quarters and take a nice long shower.

 That is, until he gets a message from Garak asking him if he’d like to join him for dinner. Julian showers as quickly as he can, washing his hair twice just for good measure. Julian hasn’t seen his friend in days, and the last time he had Garak insulted his clothes. He wants to make the tailor eat his words, or barring that, at least swallow them long enough for Julian to win an argument.

 And that means Julian needs to look his absolute best, reaching into his closet for his favorite sweater, only to find his hands brushing against nothing. In fact, as Julian looked through his wardrobe, he can’t help noticing that several of his louder shirts are missing.

 Julian lets out a low sigh as he grabs his slim fit blue shirt, one of the few things he’s ever worn in Garak’s presence without the other man making a low sound of disapproval. Knowing Garak, which Julian thinks he very nearly does, that means he rather likes it.

 Julian holds the shirt up, frowning as he peers more closely at the silky fabric in his hands. The material feels thinner, no base … no spongy base at all, and the shoulder and chest are a notably more narrow cut than before. Julian doesn’t even bother to check any of his other shirts or uniforms, knowing he’ll find them all similarly resized and his padded shirts gone.

 “Kukalaka, did we by any chance have a visitor while I was gone? One with scales and no respect for anyone’s privacy but his own?” Julian asks as he looks up at his bear with a bit of a huff, brushing his hand over his head as he wonders the best course of action. He could simply replicate himself a new padded shirt and outfit to go with it, but then he’d have to wait to tell Garak off and Julian has never had the patience for that.

 So instead he hurriedly pulls on some black pants, sliding the newly fitted blue silk shirt over his shoulders. He glances in the mirror, taking in the way the shirt hugs the lean lines of his body, revealing new contours and angles that Julian has long forgotten were even there. Julian wonders for a moment if this might be better and then pushes the thought away. His Romulan roommate at Starfleet, Avak, always wore padded bodywear under his clothes and he’d never wanted for a date.

 He’d also only dated other Romulans, but that’s entirely besides the point.

 The point Julian thinks as he storms down towards the elevator, jamming numbers hurriedly and barely paying attention to stares he got, some admiring and some bordering on concern as Julian tries to glare his reflection in the side of the elevator door. Then they’re on the promenade, and Julian marches down toward Garak’s shop ignoring Jadzia’s hello with a quick wave of one hand. He has more pressing matters. He takes a few deep breaths as he finally arrives in front of Garak’s door, the tailor already standing in front of it with a look that’s entirely too smug for Julian’s liking.  “Garak, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

 “Doctor, you’re early.” Garak answers smoothly as he slides his arm around his shoulders. Without the padding, his arm fits there easily, a heavy but comforting weight that almost makes Julian forget to be angry. Then Garak smirks, eyes dancing as he looks up and down Julian’s chest in a way that could almost be described as lustful if it had been someone besides Garak looking at him like that. “I must say that shirt compliments your lithe frame. If we just changed the color a bit, you’d look absolutely dashing.”

 “Garak, you had no right to break into my quarters and alter my entire wardrobe.” Julian cries as he reaches up one hand to pull Garak’s arm off of his shoulder. He never quite manages, the hand resting on top of Garak’s instead when his right thumb comes in contact with a particularly soft scale. He’s always liked the texture and Julian can’t bring himself to pull his hand away.

 “My dear, I’m only trying to help you.” Garak assures him in a deceptively soft voice, the arm not currently wrapped around Julian’s shoulder reaching up to lay on top of his hand. Someone looking in the shop would think that Garak’s caught him in a bizarre embrace, Julian’s more slender than usual frame engulfed by Garak. He definitely does not find that thought enticing.

 “Help me? By invading my privacy and ruining all of my clothes?” Julian snaps in a clipped voice as twists around a bit. He pulls his arm down along with Garak’s, the other man giving surprisingly little resistance as Julian rests their arms side by side at his waist. He holds their hands together there for good measure. He doesn’t need Garak playing any more tricks on him tonight.

 “I admit, my means might have been a bit distasteful, but I’d hardly call your clothes ruined.” Garak answers innocently as he squeezes his hand lightly, and Julian can’t quite help gripping his hand back with equal fervor. This is more affection than he usually gets from the tailor, even if he infuriated with the smug, meddling man and all the ways in which he treats Julian like a fool.

 “I can’t wear _any_ of them.” Julian huffs in undisguised annoyance this time, crossing his arms against his chest as much as he can without letting go of Garak’s and using his superior height to try and loom over Garak. He finds that its far less successful without the shoulder and chest pads that made him look like he was half linebacker at their thickest. Maybe that’s why the Romulans favored them so much, rather than the aesthetic. Maybe his style has been … wanting. But still, that’s not the point. Though, neither are the words that come out of Julian’s mouth. “I have to replicate an entirely new wardrobe.”

 “Or you could stop _trying_ to looking ridiculous.” Garak suggests as he leans in so that his eyes line up with where the slim lines of his neck spread out into lean shoulder muscles, now far more visible to Garak’s discerning eye. And Garak isn’t making any kind of clucks, gaze almost hooded as it lands on the side of his neck. Cardassians.

 Julian leans back, though he doesn’t quite let go of the other man’s hand. He’s spent months thinking Garak’s interest in him was purely intellectual and the flirting a mere joke, he’s certainly not going to let Garak off the hook so easily now that he knows it’s genuine. “Garak, what exactly did I do to upset you?”

 “You hid a lovely, sleek frame under that ridiculous padded shirt.” Garak answers with a long sigh, eye ridges pressing together as he gives Julian an unimpressed look, as though it should be been obvious. Garak gives him another once over, lips still pressed into a tight frown even as his eyes start to dance. “You can hardly blame for me being annoyed that you’d hide such beauty.”

 “Tell me Garak, are those Cardassian beauty standards or your own personal ones?” Julian asks as he lowers his voice just a tad, dropping his gaze so he can look up at Garak through his eyelashes.

 “Have dinner with me in my quarters and we can explore that topic together, my dear doctor.” Garak says plainly, giving their still intertwined hands another squeeze. There’s something that can’t be mistaken for anything but want in his gaze this time as he shifts his body so he and Julian are aligned together. Julian swallows, feeling a light flush start to spread up his neck. He can’t pretend it’s not a tempting offer.

 “Garak, you’re going to have to come up with better lines than that.” Julian whispers as he leans forward, pressing his shoulders against Garak’s so he can press his mouth against the shell of Garak’s ear. He fits perfectly there, his lean frame practically melting into Garak’s as his breath brushes against the other man’s ear.

  
  Then Julian lets go of his hand and walks out of the shop, not glancing back to see if Garak is following him down the promenade. He did say he wasn’t going to let Garak win tonight, and if that means making the other man wait, well Julian likes to think his apparently _beautiful_ lithe body will be worth it.


End file.
